


Unburdened

by green_grrl



Category: Troy (2004)
Genre: M/M, Men of Myth Convention - Freeform, appearance by characters from Batman Begins/Chopper/Lord of the Rings/Boondock Saints, obscure Sean Bean movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-08
Updated: 2005-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_grrl/pseuds/green_grrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odysseus has been carrying his guilt a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unburdened

**Author's Note:**

> I was itching to write Hector/Odysseus, but Chopper kept butting in, so Men of Myth it was. The Men of Myth Convention is the brilliant world of stewardess. 
> 
> Thanks to dubh_ceol for betaing.

Odysseus and Achilles were well into their cups as well as their gossip. Relaxing in the bar after day two of the convention, they had quickly dispatched the topics of what old acquaintances they had seen and which symposia they had attended, and had latched onto the much more interesting topic of fresh meat.

"Well I really really enjoyed the talk on 'Archetypes and the Selection of an Alter-Ego'—and not just the psychological insights." Achilles' leer and his wavering balance on the barstool clearly demonstrated the frame of mind to which he had sunk.

Odysseus smirked and his eyes twinkled. "Do share, old friend. You've never wanted to hide your exploits in battle behind a pseudonym. So how, exactly, did you end up in a lecture on aliases and animal totems?"

"Weeeeell, it might have had something to do with tall, dark, handsome and a particularly intense pair of hazel eyes...." He giggled a little into his beer.

Odysseus laughed. "I thought that might be the case. So the mighty Achilles is interested in spoiled millionaire playboys these days?"

Achilles gave his friend a mock-petulant nudge, nearly sending both of them to the floor. "There's a lot more to Bruce than that!"

A single raised eyebrow and a grin clearly conveyed that Odysseus had noticed Achilles was on a first-name basis with the new convention attendee.

Achilles rushed to defend his new fancy. "He's brilliant. I caught up with him after his presentation and we, um, chatted for a while. I might have convinced him that next year he should consider 'R&D Advances in Weapons and Technology' as a topic. Might generate more..." His hand waved about as he searched his alcohol-soaked brain cells for the word. "Interest."

Odysseus was quite sure Achilles was interested enough, regardless. But as he looked over Achilles' shoulder, he abruptly wiped the leer off his face, and said with a subtle clear of the throat, "Yes, of course. A good weapons talk is always appreciated. I myself am planning on attending Hoot and Andy's update on intelligence hardware tomorrow."

Drunk as he was, Achilles got Odysseus's hint, and was able to sound appropriately enthusiastic when an arm snaked around his waist from behind. "Patroclus, is that you I hope?"

"Indeed it is, handsome," slurred a voice in his ear. "I was just missing you."

Achilles gave a quick sniff. "Hmm. You mean you and the hotel room mini-bar have been missing me."

"Fancy a night cap?" Patroclus nuzzled his neck suggestively.

"What do you say, Odysseus? Party in our room?" Achilles offered.

Odysseus waved them off with a smile. "You two go on. I heard Aragorn and Faramir might be dropping in here, and was hoping to catch up with them." He was also not going to begrudge the lovers some time alone together before Patroclus passed out from the liquor.

"All right. We'll see you around." The blonds graced him with stunning twin smiles, then wove out of the bar together, arms around each other's waists, leaving Odysseus to his beer and his thoughts.

Another year, another convention. In some ways it was becoming the same old routine. Get the program and decide which workshops to attend. Find out where the Viking gods’ exhibit was and be sure to avoid it. Walk into the bar and head toward the side the Trojans were not occupying. His eyes automatically flicked to the handsome pairing of Hector and Paris on the other side of the room, and just as quickly he looked away. He downed the rest of his beer in one go and signaled the bartender for another.

He hoped that Aragorn and Faramir showed soon; he genuinely liked the Gondorians. Many a night at conventions past they had shared lively discussions on their cultures' poetry and lore over drinks. Odysseus greatly appreciated the two men. They valued peace as well as skill in battle; learned wisdom, as well as drunken laughter with friends. Achilles was his oldest friend, but he did tend to overly fixate on battles, booze and bendable bodies.

At the moment, Odysseus was surrounded by less erudite convention-goers than the men of Middle Earth, and he sighed. As he mused on his longing for intelligent company, he realized that he had taken to staring across at Hector again. Make that attractive, intelligent company.

As he watched the Trojans, Odysseus saw Paris fixate on some new shiny thing, and leave to chase after his new, doomed, conquest. Hector's face as Paris deserted him was a study in helplessness and hurt before he pulled a mask of indifference down and turned to his drink.

Odysseus wrenched his gaze away, with a guilty wince. Another year, another convention, another reminder of his offenses against a man whose company he would have preferred to enjoy rather than avoid.

"That's a real heartbreaker, yeah?" A strongly accented voice next to him broke in on Odysseus's thoughts. He turned to see a colorfully tattooed man built like a mountain also looking across at the Trojan side of the bar. He looked back at Odysseus and flashed what was probably meant to be a friendly smile, though the flash of metallic teeth was a bit disconcerting.

"Another fan of pretty Paris, are you?" Odysseus asked.

The mountain next to him shook as he chuckled. "Oh he's a bit of spunk all right. You'd have to've carked it not to crack a fat for that. But that's the heartbreak there." He gestured with his beer towards Hector. "Paris goes running off after whatever takes his fancy, and he don't know how good he could have it, right at home." Guilt stabbed Odysseus again, and he dropped his eyes to the bar in front of him.

"Mark Read. Chopper to you, mate." The giant was nudging him and holding out a hand.

"Odysseus," he replied, returning the shake.

"Oh yeah, heard about you. You have your own history with those two, yeah? War, Achilles, wooden horse, all that?"

"Yeah."

"Is that what's got you looking like a roo in a dingo patch? You think Hector holds a grudge? He's always seemed like a good bloke to me—you should go talk to him, patch things up. Take it from me, you don't let a little stabbing get in the way of being mates." Chopper ordered a round of shots.

Odysseus kept his eyes on the countertop, fiddling with his coaster. "It's not just the war. It's Paris." As soon as the words were out he startled, then downed the shot as if he could wash them back down his throat. What was he doing talking to this complete stranger? Who was surely no Dr. Phil. (The daytime television choices in the bar were not the most obvious picks for such a manly men's convention.)

"Paris? What, you had a go at him in front of his brother, too?" Chopper laughed. "Aw, that ain't nothin'. Everybody has." He waited as Odysseus continued shredding his coaster into pulp. "C'mon, tell old Uncle Chop-Chop."

Odysseus breathed in a great lungful and let it out. "I never went after Paris. Even if I had I know Hector understands that Paris is blessed—cursed, possessed—by Aphrodite and can't help himself. It's just... I can see how hard that is for both of them... anditsallmyfault."

Chopper took a second to decipher the last mumble, then signaled for another round of shots and a couple more pints. Odysseus gave him a nod of thanks and tossed back the second whiskey before he went on. "You're from this modern world. You don't know what it's like to have the gods fighting for your favors, to have to walk the tightrope between honoring one and offending another. And Aphrodite, she's one of the worst. Look what she does to the prince—crazy lust and passions, no control. I was lucky enough to be favored by Athena—wise, balanced, controlled, rational."

Chopper gave a little chuckle. "Well she did pitch a wobbly over the golden apple thing, yeah?"

Odysseus grimaced and looked down. "Yeah. She did."

"Sheilas!" Chopper laughed again. "C'mon mate." He clapped him on the shoulder. "You're an all right bloke and so is Hector. So you had a bit of a barney a few thousand years back. You're going to keep running into each other at these conventions. Have a go at patching it up. What's the worst he can do? Kill you?" Chopper gave a loud guffaw. Odysseus grimaced a bit. Killing a man of myth was no permanent thing, just a bit unpleasant. No, if he cleared the air, really cleared the air with Hector, the worst that could happen was that Hector would think worse of him than he already did. And Odysseus wasn't sure he could bear that.

Then again, Chopper was right; he couldn't keep coming to these conventions and letting the sight of the Trojan princes eat away at him. Odysseus might pick his battles wisely, but he never ran from his duty.

A ripple of disturbance came from another corner of the bar. As a wave of "fucken"s crested over their hearing, it was apparent that a Saints-shaped rock had been tossed into the up-to-now calm waters of the bar, and that seas were about to get rough. Chopper's face lit up with a manic glee as he clapped Odysseus on the shoulder again, and waded towards the chaos. Odysseus gave him a return smile, but headed the other way, out of the bar towards the safe harbor of his room.

How exactly he should approach the Hector situation, Odysseus wasn't sure. But one thing he knew, as he tossed and turned in bed that night, was that he wasn't going to reject good advice, even when it came from a homicidally schizophrenic Aussie.

In the morning a message from the front desk led him to breakfast with Aragorn and Faramir. The brawl in the bar the night before had kept them out, once they had confirmed that the Minis Tirith guard weren't involved (for once). Odysseus was just as glad for the morning meet-up; starting the day with their company chased away the thoughts he had been preoccupied with through a sleepless night. He knew that they were close to the Trojan princes as well, but the Gondorians had never let it interfere with their friendship with him. And for his part, he wasn't going to drag them in to his own, as of now internal, drama with Hector.

Properly fortified with breakfast, Odysseus spent the day at other presentations before taking his own place on the panel discussion of "Spying, Misinformation and Subterfuge: Non-militaristic Means for Achieving Objectives During Wartime." The panel on the effective use of intelligence and cleverness against brute force and advanced weaponry went smoothly. Odysseus was pleased to see that it seemed to be well received by an appreciative and large audience.

Lingerers were being shooed out as the room cleared for the next workshop, so Odysseus headed out a side door. He heard the door pop open again behind him, and an unmistakable voice said, "That was an excellent presentation you made." Odysseus turned to see whether Hector was mocking or angry or otherwise upset, but the brown eyes were steady and sincere. "And, well, um... I appreciated the things you said about Troy."

Odysseus hadn't even seen Hector in the audience—after his turmoil last night he might have frozen on the dais if he had. But it wouldn't have changed what he said of his former enemy. Their prowess had required the Greeks to pull out all the stops to beat them, even after Hector had been killed. "Thanks. I, well... I always respected Troy, Hector. Your walls, your archers, your own fighting skills... I never would have chosen to go to war against you."

Hector dipped his head in acknowledgment, then gestured towards an exit to a side garden. Odysseus nodded and followed him out. It looked like he was going to be faced with confessing to Hector sooner than he expected. They were off to a good start, but he didn't expect that it could finish that way. Still, he took a seat on the broad concrete edge of a raised planter.

Hector settled on one opposite. He shifted a little uncomfortably. "Shouldn't have been a war in the first place. We knew taking Helen was wrong."

Odysseus nodded his appreciation of the admission, but also gave a little shrug. "Not that Menelaus was the greatest husband, but, well, I know Helen didn't have a chance against Paris." He looked up at Hector. "You didn't either."

Hector looked pained. "I should have...." Odysseus shook his head.

"You couldn't have."

Hector slumped.

"You can't fight a goddess," Odysseus insisted. They both let that settle between them. Odysseus fidgeted with a button on his shirt. He continued, "I, on the other hand... It wasn't my war. It wasn't Achilles' war." His voice dropped lower. "I was responsible for involving my skills, his skills."

Hector gave a small wince at Achilles' name, but countered, "You are blessed by Athena. Strategy, rationality, wisdom... You were no less able to refuse the best course of action to protect yourself and your kingdom than Paris was able to avoid a fit of passion."

Odysseus was grateful, very grateful for Hector's understanding, as well as for his reaching out to heal their breach. He had admired the prince for a long time, but this was the first time he had actually spent time close to the man, off the battlefield. He could feel the decency and honor, as well as the charisma, of the great warrior. He was terribly tempted to embrace the detente they were building, to reach for the friendship that he suspected they would both find rewarding, but he knew there was one last confession he had to make, and that it would likely shatter this fragile peacemaking.

"About Aphrodite and Paris..."

Hector gave him a resigned shrug, as if to say his brother's "blessing" was a foregone conclusion.

Odysseus kept his eyes on the ground as he quietly admitted, "It was my fault."

Hector stared at him. "How do you mean? How can it be?"

"Thetis and Peleus's wedding, I was there. When the golden apple—'to the fairest'—was thrown." He squirmed uncomfortably. "Athena, Hera and Aphrodite wanted Zeus to decide which of them was the fairest. Zeus wouldn't do it, so Athena said that the wisest judge among men should decide. All the wedding guests immediately pointed at me, as she knew they would. But I didn't want to get into the middle of that any more than Zeus did. Aphrodite and Hera objected that I would favor Athena, so I feigned a reluctant admission that there should be no impression of partiality. Athena kept quiet, but I knew she was furious with me." Odysseus glanced up to see that Hector was fascinated by this new addition to the famous story.

"I insisted, though, that a judge should be chosen from noble ranks, as no common mortal could withstand the sight of three such beautiful goddesses. I pulled Athena aside and assured her that no noble would slight her—wisdom, diplomacy and success in battle were the most prized gifts a king or prince would want. And I believed it. I believed I had found a way that my patron would win the contest, the contest would appear fair, and I wouldn't bear the blame. She believed it, too." He saw Hector nod as he followed the reasoning.

Odysseus continued, "I didn't know, though, about Paris—that there was a prince of Troy who had grown up as the simple shepherd Alexandros, that strategy and statecraft were completely unknown to him. And in the end Paris was the noble who was chosen to judge the contest. And why wouldn't a shepherd want a pretty wife? Poor kid, he didn't have a chance against Aphrodite, and I was the one who threw him to that wolf."

Hector's head was bowed as he replayed in his imagination the contest that had irrevocably changed the fate of his brother, his city, himself. Odysseus's participation had never made it into myth, and he turned over this new information in his mind—the clever king once again escaping harm and deflecting it elsewhere. Onto his beloved brother.

Odysseus watched as Hector's muscles tensed, spoiling for a fight against... what? Him? History? Fate? Odysseus himself was drained in the aftermath of his confession. If Hector wanted to beat him, kill him, he wouldn't fight it, wouldn't use his wiles to escape retribution. In the end, he did believe in honor.

Finally Hector looked up at him. "You feel guilty for Paris's 'favor' by Aphrodite." It was a statement as much as a question.

Odysseus nodded sadly. "It was responsible for the most horrific war of our era. It led to the death of many, many good men." Odysseus gave a look that made it clear he included Hector in that number, that Hector's death pained him. "And..." Odysseus paused before continuing. "And the favor of the goddess continues to cause Paris to confuse lust and love, hurting him, hurting everyone he pursues...” Quietly, “Hurting you." Surely he had overstepped his bounds now.

Hector winced, but realized he shouldn't be surprised. The situation between himself and his brother was his own private pain, but was probably no great secret. He couldn't fault the Ithican for speaking the truth. He couldn't even fault him for his part in the events that had so affected all their history—he empathized too greatly with him. Wouldn't he have made the same decisions if he had had been in Odysseus's sandals? It's what princes, what kings did to protect their people. He even empathized with the weight his former opponent was carrying, a guilt that at this moment had him bent over, resting his forearms on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Odysseus." The king looked up into the prince's direct gaze. "Did you pick Paris to be the judge of the contest?"

Odysseus's brow wrinkled. "No, I didn't even know he existed." He watched with some apprehension as the mighty warrior unfolded from his seat and came towards him. Hector's eyes were soft, though, as he reached down a hand and pulled him up into an embrace.

"We have been at odds too long, and we are too much alike to waste any more time as enemies."

Odysseus responded fervently, "I would never willingly choose to be an enemy of yours." He pulled back, though. "The contest..."

Hector held Odysseus's face in his hands and looked directly into the green eyes as he said, "Again, it is not possible for you to refuse the cleverest course of action. You acted with wisdom and prudence, as you must do, and without malice towards me and mine. There is no fault in that." Odysseus looked still unbelieving that he was forgiven, so Hector leaned forward and kissed his brow, then his mouth. Finally Odysseus closed his eyes in relief and relaxed against him.

"Come on," Hector pulled at Odysseus, "Let's go celebrate the cessation of hostilities!"

Odysseus was still dazed, but very much in favor of finally enjoying this man’s company. He trailed willingly after Hector towards the princes' suite. At the sight of the rooms he gave an appreciative whistle. "Nothing but the best for the princes of Troy," Hector grinned. He headed for the phone to call room service. "I happen to know they lay in some excellent wines for the elves; I can talk my way into their supply. We'll have a royal spread tonight. Oh, here." He detoured to a dresser and tossed a short robe and belt towards Odysseus. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be changing out of these damned trousers as soon as I order."

Odysseus stripped, relieved to get back into a skirted tunic. Hector was able to get a few admiring glances in while on the phone. Warrior king, indeed. Fortunately the sleeveless design and short hem meant that he would still be able to admire plenty after his guest finished dressing. Like all ancients, he appreciated aesthetics.

Room service taken care of, it was Hector's turn to change, and Odysseus had his chance to enjoy the view. Which he did. Very much.

They settled onto the living room sofas and paused for a moment, balanced on an edge, knowing that they had never been friends despite having so much in common. Then Hector took the plunge with an observation on one of the other lectures he had attended that day, which led to an animated comparison between honorable warfare in their time and the modern Geneva Convention, which turned into discussion of various historical examples of heroism, which segued into literary appreciation of favorite odes and epics. As they enjoyed platters of fruits, breads, meats and cheeses, and endless glasses of wines, conversation ranged—or degenerated—further, from bemoaning the lack of good goat cheeses in Florida to discovering a shared love of roller coasters to chortle-filled gossip about their fellow convention attendees.

As they shared the food and wine, they had moved next to each other on one couch. Peals of laughter and exclamations invited friendly touches and leans. Hector most definitely noticed the way Odysseus's eyes glinted with humor and his cheeks lined attractively as he smiled. Odysseus could not miss the warm eyes and open laughter of Hector. Finally, as the wine had left them less and less able to sit upright, Hector stood with difficulty, then pulled Odysseus up after him and towards the bedroom. "Let's go get more comfortable." His look said that the invitation was there, but not forced.

Odysseus immediately felt his body's acceptance of the invitation, but stood fast for a moment. He hated to ask, but, "Paris?"

Hector replied simply, with a sadness mostly, but not quite, concealed, "I won't be seeing Paris again until at least tomorrow night." He well knew the course of his brother's infatuations. He gazed simply and directly at Odysseus. "Keep me company tonight?"

Odysseus moved forward immediately and kissed him on the lips. A soft peck. Another. Nudges with his lips and a small lick to get the other to open. Hector responded suddenly and greedily, holding Odysseus close as their tongues entangled. They swayed a bit, their kisses not contributing to any kind of sobriety, so they made their way, arms still around each other and lips still seeking, towards the bed.

Hector hauled them both onto the huge mattress, and they lay on their sides facing each other, tasting mouths, running fingers through hair and entwining limbs. Not that the tunics weren't easy access, but Hector wanted more skin, and pulled at Odysseus's belt and robe until they were off. Free now to enjoy all of it, he pushed the Greek's body back and hovered over him, running his hands over the battle-scarred skin and firm muscles, never letting up his exploration of the man's mouth with his own.

Hector's own tunic didn't hide much, and both their erections were evident, pressed between them. Odysseus moaned at the contact. He put his hand to Hector's belt, asking permission with his eyes to remove it. Hector ripped the clothes off himself, and they slid against each other, frantic at the feel of skin on skin, especially their sensitized cocks.

Hector ducked his head to take kissing, sucking nips at Odysseus's throat, eliciting more moans. His hands pinched at Odysseus's nipples as he moved back up to the man's mouth and swallowed his very vocal reaction. He felt Odysseus's hand reach down towards his cock, and felt his slight stutter of surprise at the size of it before the steady stroke started and Odysseus spread his legs beneath him. Hector raised his head to examine his companion's face. Odysseus was a powerful warrior king, and Hector had not expected the sort of acquiescent passivity he had gotten from him. Not that he didn't seem passionate or excited, but...

The muscles along Odysseus's jaw were slightly tensed, but his steady green gaze showed only determination and acceptance of their positions. In another sudden flash of that empathy he had for the Ithican king, Hector realized that some part of him still felt that he needed to expiate his sins, to repay the Trojan for his part in the war. Hector dropped his forehead to Odysseus's, then tilted his head to take his mouth in a sweet and lingering kiss. Odysseus might feel the need to sacrifice his body to Hector, but that didn't mean Hector would abuse the offering.

He reached for a jar of perfumed grease, and slid one slicked finger around and then into the entrance to Odysseus's body. He felt Odysseus trying to consciously relax, and encouraged him to do so with kisses and gentle strokes of his skin with his other hand. Moving his finger slowly in and out, he aimed towards where Odysseus would most appreciate his touch, and smiled in satisfaction as Odysseus cried out against his lips. As Odysseus began responding more enthusiastically to the movement of one finger he added a second. The discomfort seemed to give over quickly to pleasure, and Hector was able further relax and stretch him. Eventually Odysseus was wantonly pushing down on three fingers, and Hector deemed him ready. He liberally oiled his cock with his free hand, then positioned it to where he could push in immediately as he removed his fingers.

Odysseus had time for no more than an "oh" and an "oooooh" before he was filled completely. His eyes fixed somewhat blankly on the ceiling for a moment as his legs came up around Hector's waist and he concentrated on the feeling of being so stretched. Then he came to, and pushed back with his hips as his eyes met Hector's. Hector saw apology for all the sins of the past in their depths before he began moving and the lids fell closed again with the intensity of sensation. Hector wrapped one arm in a hug around the king and supported himself on one elbow so that he could gently stroke Odysseus's face as he slid in and out of him. He didn't know how else to say, "Apology accepted."

Hector's strokes increased in intensity and speed, and from the sound of Odysseus's panting that was working for him, too. As he slammed in, harder and faster, Odysseus's hips slammed back to meet him. Their eyes met and now they were two warriors, fully enjoying their strength and pleasure. Hector grinned -- this was what he had wanted, not some misplaced martyrdom. He was climbing towards his peak, so he reached for Odysseus's cock to bring him with him. Hector's hand pushed Odysseus over the edge and the resulting contractions sent him over as well.

They flopped a moment, sweating and panting, then Hector pulled back to grin at his friend and give him a happy, smacking kiss. Odysseus grinned back and reached up to ruffle Hector's curls. "Damn. We could have done this millennia ago." Hector laughed in agreement. As his cock slipped out, Odysseus gave a tiny grimace.

"I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No major harm. I'm just glad I won't have to get around on horseback tomorrow."

Reassured, Hector used an edge of the bedcover to wipe off the worst of the wet, and pulled down the sheets on one side of the king-sized bed so that they could slide over and scoot under. "I tip the maids very well," he defended when Odysseus raised his eyebrows.

They found each other to be surprisingly snuggly, for such fearsome soldiers.

The next morning, after a rather frisky bath in the giant tub, they took the elevator down for the next day of conventioneering. Two floors down Chopper got on, and gave them both an appraising look. Odysseus gave him a smile that left no doubt his advice had been taken. Hector leaned back a bit behind Odysseus's head and clearly mouthed, "Thank you." Chopper broke into a wide grin, gave them both a cheery "Good onya, mates!" and laughed the rest of the way to the lobby.  



End file.
